Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no 286

the constellation of Mallaig
turns on its harbour lights
and sends silver filaments
across the Christmas water
like lost strands of lametta
the Ardvasar Hotel gives up
its obligation to celebrate
brown untidy bungalows
provide a kitch spectacle
of bruised plastic snowmen
and sparkle-eyed reindeer
leaping electric blue icicles
dwarfs climb a snow-ladder
looking whisky malicious
and ready to snatch back
any gift Santa might offload
we’re a couple of silhouettes
in front of a neon sleigh
warming ourselves on disdain
our New Year was a duty
and we are tired of caring
sorry for our bad temper
and what we failed to do
until the night hushes us
with an abracadabra of stars
Robin Wilson

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